Afternoon tea out, a wreath, and a roaring fire

Mum and I had a little jaunt to explore the local area today, and visited a nice hotel where we had tea and biscuits in front of a roaring log fire. We were very grateful for the fire as it's pretty cold at the moment, despite fur coats and warm gloves.

It was actually quite a trek down the road to the hotel, but we were on a regular bus route and managed to time it so that we caught a bus for the one-stop distance back up the hill. 70p for one bus stop, we two just standing next to the driver for about 15 seconds, seemed quite expensive. But it would have worn out mum to struggle up the hill with her walking stick in this cold weather. One of her elderly lady neighbours in the flats complex had a funny turn a few weeks ago doing this same steep little journey on foot with her stick on just such a raw, freezing day.

And we met an interesting lady walking quite badly with a stick and carrying a pretty wreath of leaves and flowers. 'Hello,' we said, 'cold, isn't it? Take care for frost underfoot.'

'I'm taking this wreath to my husband's grave,' she said, and she was a Scottish lady, perhaps local. 'He's just been moved here from Pere la Chaise cemetery in Paris. You wouldn't believe the paperwork and red tape! It's taken years and now he's here, so this is my first wreath for his grave.'

I could only imagine the bureaucracy and international to-ings and fro-ings to have a body in a coffin moved from one plot of ground in one country to another plot in another country. A re-burial, that would be. I wondered how complex it would be, and how expensive, too, both financially and emotionally.

There can't be many people who would take the trouble. This lady looked about 55. 'He was 38 when he died,' she said, adding another piece of information for my already active imagination to work with.

So I reckon she must have lost him more than 15 years ago and has wanted to bring him home to Scotland. And today was such a triumph, she wanted to tell two passing strangers.

As she walked by she added, a total non-sequitur,: 'You two are both so slim, aren't you?'. Mum and I grinned to one another, as the lady must have felt the strain with a precious little wreath in one hand, a walking stick in the other and carrying quite a bit of avoirdupois herself.